No; mind thy father. When his tongue Is keen, he's still thy friend, John, Vor wolder vo'k should warn the young How wickedness will end, John; An' he do know a wicked youth Would be thy manhood's beäne, An' zoo would bring thee back ageän 'Ithin the ways o' truth.
An' mind en still when in the end His leäbour's all a-done, John, An' let en vind a steadvast friend In thee his thoughtvul son, John; Vor he did win what thou didst lack Avore couldst work or stand, An' zoo, when time do num' his hand, Then pay his leäbour back.
An' when his bwones be in the dust, Then honour still his neäme, John; An' as his godly soul wer just, Let thine be voun' the seäme, John. Be true, as he wer true, to men, An' love the laws o' God; Still tread the road that he've a-trod, An' live wi' him ageän.
In church at Grenley woone mid zee A beam vrom wall to wall; a tree That's longer than the church is wide, An' zoo woone end o'n's drough outside,-- Not cut off short, but bound all round Wi' lead, to keep en seäfe an' sound.
Back when the builders vu'st begun The church,--as still the teäle do run,-- A man work'd wi' em; no man knew Who 'twer, nor whither he did goo. He wer as harmless as a chile, An' work'd 'ithout a frown or smile, Till any woaths or strife did rise To overcast his sparklèn eyes:
An' then he'd call their minds vrom strife, To think upon another life. He wer so strong, that all alwone He lifted beams an' blocks o' stwone, That others, with the girtest païns, Could hardly wag wi' bars an' chaïns; An' yet he never used to staÿ O' Zaturdays, to teäke his paÿ.
Woone day the men wer out o' heart, To have a beam a-cut too short; An' in the evenèn, when they shut Off work, they left en where 'twer put; An' while dumb night went softly by Towárds the vi'ry western sky, A-lullèn birds, an' shuttèn up The deäisy an' the butter cup, They went to lay their heavy heads An' weary bwones upon their beds.
An' when the dewy mornèn broke, An' show'd the worold, fresh awoke, Their godly work ageän, they vound The beam they left upon the ground A-put in pleäce, where still do bide, An' long enough to reach outzide. But he unknown to tother men Wer never there at work ageän: Zoo whether he mid be a man Or angel, wi' a helpèn han', Or whether all o't wer a dream, They didden deäre to cut the beam.